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My wife, Ata, entered the shop as the bell clanged, and the lights snapped back on.

Ata was born in Bordrum, Turkey. On the sea. The Turquoise Coast it’s called. She never knew her parents but there were rumors that her mom was a witch. Ata wore a locket that she wore with the name of Iamar engraved in it.

In university we had met and became as one, experiencing what life brought us.

I went from owning video shops, in the hay-day of the business, to now a small bookshop.

Now in the middle of the floor there was a small puddle. A puddle that left too long would attract mosquitoes type of puddle. Shortly after, you would have a fuckin’ gazillon friggin’ baby critters. The type that navigate to a puddle in a damn bookshop type of puddle. They would have babies, and they would grow into heathens with wings. I hate mosquitoes and calamine lotion. If there is one thing that annoys me, it’s insects.

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